Cage of Arms
by MyelleWhite
Summary: John is too late in saving a little girl. Sherlock takes this as an opperatunity to show John just how wonderful he really is. SH/JW established relationship. Based on prompt by: Bittersweet Fable


Hello everybody! How I've missed you dearly. It's been nearly ...well, almost six months since my last post and I apologize. I've had a busy life since I left you. I moved to London, England for a job. So, if any of you live here and wanna meet for a pint or a cuppa, let me know! I assure you I'm not a creep. In fact, I've already met a few other fans.

So yes, this is my newest story. It is a prompt from **Bittersweet Fable** about...well, you'll find out.

It's great to be back! Enjoy my 'return story'...not my best work, but its something.

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It really was out of his control. There was nothing I could do to stop it. A simple trip to the Sainsbury's had turned into what is arguably the most shameful moment in his career. He had seen the car...he had _seen_ the car! He saw the little girl's hand slip away from her mother's as she darted out into the street. Worst of all, he saw the blood. He saw the red that seeped into the girl's thin blonde hair.

She couldn't have been more than eight.

John had pushed his guilt aside to be more useful in trying to save the girl. He knew it wouldn't happen. He knew there was no hope for her but he tried anyways.

The mother screamed helplessly as she watched her daughter, probably her only child, being taken away in an ambulance. Someone must have called. John hadn't even thought to call for one...he was useless.

As he got up off the street and watched the ambulance drive away with the girl, police began questioning witnesses. John first, then a few others who had seen it happen as well.

A few people rested a hand on his shoulder and offered him water. He must have looked bad. A few thanked him for trying..._trying._ Yes he had tried, but he had tried and _failed._

The walk to Baker Street was short from where he now was. The shopping he had got was now abandoned somewhere on the sidewalk of the scene. He wouldn't go back for it.

Sherlock noticed John enter the flat. John pushed past Sherlock and into the bathroom before questions could be asked.

"Where is the shopping?" he yelled to John from the other room.

John didn't answer and instead turned up the water as hot as the tap could possibly go. He felt like Lady Macbeth after the murder. He knew it was somehow his fault. The girl's blood was on his hands literally and figuratively. The red stained his skin and reminded him that he could have prevented this. Her death was a result of his incompetence.

He still saw the blood although the redness in his hands now came from the heat of the water. His skin ached and burned and he barely felt it. Unfocused. Unfeeling. Uncaring.

No, very caring. That was his problem. He cared too much that he hadn't saved her. He couldn't have done anything. Nothing would have changed...except that she would be alive. John's insecurities seemed to swim in circles around his intellect, harnessing it and squeezing until nothing was left. Hopeless.

"John?" Sherlock called. John registered that his voice was closer this time. Footsteps that lead the voice became louder and suddenly Sherlock was beside him, taking his hands from underneath the scalding water.

"What the _hell_?" he asked. "John, what happened?"

"Go away." John said as he struggled to free his hands. The friction on his flesh hurt him and he ceased moving. Sherlock switched to 'boyfriend' mode, ad John liked to refer to it as, and turned the water to a colder temperature. He massaged John's hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs up and down, attempting to soothe him.

"What happened?"

"Leave me alone, Sherlock. I can handle this. I just got my hands dirty is all."

"No." He said firmly. "I'm your boyfriend and whether you like it or not, when you have a problem, it becomes mine too. I'm here to take care of you...so what happened so I can fix it?"

"You can't fix this. You're amazing, Sherlock, but you can't save someone from death."

Sherlock's grip on John's hands tightened defensively.

"I don't mean me. "

With a sigh, John followed Sherlock to the living room to tell him what had happened. He rested his back against Sherlock's chest. It was comfortable that he wouldn't have to show him his expressions.

"I wasn't good enough to save her. I could have prevented her death by simply pushing her out of the way. _I_ might have survived the impact. She couldn't."

Sherlock noticeably flinched and wrapped his arms around John.

"Don't downplay yourself. You're a damn good soldier and an even better doctor. If you couldn't save her, then there was no hope at all. I'm not going to say I'm glad she died, but if that prevented you from making a decision to play the hero then I'm fine with how things ended."

John was silent for a long time, not knowing what exactly to say. He settled upon what had been the most horrific sight. Not the blood...not the car or the impact. It was the mother. Her screams echoed in his mind, making an endless loop on some kind of internal telly.

"You should have seen the mother. She was horrified." He whispered.

Sherlock was quick to respond.

"You don't think that I would be equally as horrified if something happened to you?"

"Sherlock, you can live without me but that mother will go home and see her daughter's bedroom door with no girl to tuck in at night. She will see drawings on the fridge and know that there will never be another one to hang up...I don't want to talk anymore."

Sherlock wanted to protest, wanted to tell John that if he had died that day, Sherlock would have too. Dramatic as it sounded, John was life now. Nothing else mattered. Damn, this was too important to just remain unsaid.

"John, I'm not done yet. There is something I have to say that you need to listen to."

Arms tightened around John as he nodded.

"Fine, go on."

"I love you. I know that you know that already but I don't think you believe it. You think you're plain and ordinary when actually you are the exact opposite. I can't help but love you and whether you believe m or not, you are a fantastic doctor _and _soldier. You've saved my life more times than I can count and you probably will in the future. Yes, a little girl died today but don't for a _second _think that it would have been better had it been you."

Sherlock's arms tightened again around John and he sighed.

"John, the point is that you really mustn't pretend I can get on without you. I wouldn't even try. You are _extraordinary._ I'm incomplete if you're not here, and for the record, I'm completely aware how sentimental I sound but this is something you needed to hear."

John was silent for a moment. He leaned back into the cage of arms that surrounded him which seemed to grow tighter and tighter with every passing minute.

"You're hurting me, Sherlock."

The grip lessened.

"I'm sorry but I just realized how close I was to losing you. You would have sacrificed yourself for her. I would be waiting here for you to come home and you just...wouldn't. I don't care if I'm crushing you; you're not leaving these arms tonight."

John sighed and half-heartedly protested. The truth is, he wouldn't have it any other way. So long as they were both breathing, nothing else really mattered. It would always be a shame that he couldn't save her. He had tried though and that was enough.

_So long as we are breathing;_ he thought...

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Please review.

If anyone is interested, I'll be doing the Christmas advent challenge. That means a story a day for every day in December until new years! The stories will be based on prompts...if anyone wants more info, let me know.

And seriously, if ANYONE wants to go for pint, I'm free. I get so bored here and it only just occurred to me that I could write...*facepalm*


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